


it's a cold and broken hallelujah

by hakanaii



Series: Pop Star AU [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Hospitals, M/M, Minor Character Death, past! Keith/Lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 20:32:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8341726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hakanaii/pseuds/hakanaii
Summary: It wasn’t right. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. They weren’t supposed to be here held together by bandages, monitors, and tubes. They were supposed to be on stage, like the true stars they are, winning over seas of fans venue after venue again and again with their platinum hits and flawless choreography. But they aren’t.





	

**Author's Note:**

> for sheithweek day 1 - Hurt/Comfort

**B** **eep. Beep. Beep. Beep.**

 

It wasn’t right. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. They weren’t supposed to be here held together by bandages, monitors, and tubes. They were supposed to be on stage, like the true stars they are, winning over seas of fans venue after venue again and again with their platinum hits and flawless choreography. 

But they aren’t. 

The world tour got cancelled. The group, disbanded. Their dancers, scattered. How could Kerberos expect to recover when they are all but moon dust? One dead, two in critical condition.

 

**beep. beep. beep. beep.**

 

**ring, ring, ring, ring, click!**

 

_Wow, you must really want to talk to me if you want to leave a message. Can’t blame you, I am pretty awesome. You know what to do._

 

**_Beeep._ **

 

“Lance, its Keith...I know, I know this is weird. It’s weird for me too...calling you like this. Multiple times. Multiple messages. You obviously don’t want to talk to me. I get it. I wouldn’t want to talk to me either. But...um....Shiro, Matt... _Katie_ …they could really use you right now, buddy. Hunk came once, I’m sure you know that though. So, um, just come, ok? I texted you the details. So, yeah, please. It’d make them happy. ‘Kay, bye.” 

Keith sighs as he hangs up and shoves his phone back into his sweatshirt pocket. Ten messages in the last six weeks. Honestly, it’d be a lifetime’s worth of Christmas miracles if Lance actually showed his face at the hospital. Hunk says he's really shaken up about it, but Keith really just thinks he's being selfish. 

“You guys would’ve been on that plane, Keith!” Hunk would remind him and to some extent, Keith cuts Lance some slack as he still wakes up from terrors of his own dreaming what would’ve happened if he was on that plane they missed. But he shoves that deep down. Now is not the time to be dealing with those. Shiro comes first. 

Shiro who gave them the opportunity of a lifetime. Shiro who showed them endless patience as he and Lance were always one insult shy from tearing out each other’s throats out with their teeth. Shiro who would grab lunch with him on rehearsal days. Shiro who watched him with those gorgeous grey eyes in genuine interest. Shiro with his soft, kind smiles he offered everyone without fail. That soothing voice, especially in his ear when Shiro would dance too close, chest to back, making Keith’s knees buckle; forcing those big, cushiony arms to cradle him. An angel among men, if Keith is perfectly honest. Now, Shiro deserves to have someone give back. 

Walking back into the ICU, Keith weaves through the curtained off sections with expertise. Even with the gentle prodding from the nurses, Keith refuses to leave. What if something happens the moment he leaves? What if suddenly Shiro’s vitals drop and they lose him too? He can’t lose Shiro so he stays and watches him carefully.

 

**Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.**

 

Keith smiles oddly enough at the familiar sound of Shiro’s heart monitor. Finding his usual seat on Shiro’s left, vacant and now molded to fit with the imprint of his butt, Keith sits back down and pulls his legs up to his chest. Watching, with tired eyes as Shiro’s chest rises and falls.  The bandages cover only the stump on his right arm now. Leaving stitches of forming scars to worm up his arm and neck leading up to one lone brace to lay over the bridge of his nose. His skin under his eyes painted with splotches of red and purple. 

The doctors can do their best but those scars aren’t going to heal pretty. Not that Keith cares he still thinks Shiro will be beautiful but the world won’t. That’s what they care about most anyways from the front man of a boyband. How can they market someone full of imperfections when they’re selling a fantasy? 

Keith pulls his legs closer, wrapping his arms around them tightly as he continues to watch. Eyes growing heavy he can feel his lashes fall against the apples of his cheeks. Just a little nap wouldn’t hurt, would it?

 

**beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep**

 

Keith’s eyes snap open and he's up on his feet before the nurses pull back the certain. But he's frozen in place when he sees Shiro convulsing, back arching off the bed as he groans in agony. The whole bed shakes along with the floor around them. Oh god, oh god, what’s he do?! What _can_ he do?! He can’t lose him like this, not when Shiro’s come so far. Surviving the crash, the surgery, the recovery. He needs Shiro, can’t do _this_ without Shiro! Whatever this is, he doesn't know, he's panicking! Why didn’t he tell Shiro how he felt sooner!! 

The nurses shove Keith out of the way before his mind settles. In the wake of confusion and too many limbs, he loses balance tripping over the bottom of the curtain. He stares from his place on the floor as they work, calling stats and working with break neck speed to stabilize Shiro’s strong heart. 

“Pull through, please,” Keith begs, softly. “Please.” 

“Clear!” One nurse calls and Keith can hear the electric current surge through his friend’s body. The convulsions cease if all for a second before along wave passes through him again. “Three, two, one, clear!” The same nurse calls. 

With fists clenched, he can’t watch anymore. They’re going to lose him, they’re going to lose him…

 

**Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.**

 

The convulsions stop and the nurses step back, a sheen of sweat present across their brows. He pulled through? He pulled through! 

“K-Keith,” Shiro says, voice hoarse. The nurses all turn their eyes to him where he remains on the floor. One even cocks an eyebrow at him as they file out past the curtain to their station in the middle of the ward. 

“Keith,” Shiro calls again, voice clear and smooth like it used to be. Keith peels himself from the floor and offers Shiro a warm smile as he pops up from behind the edge of the bed. 

“Hey.” And boy is Keith blindsided when Shiro grins even with the brace across his nose. Maybe the nurses can come back and give his heart a boost too. 

“Hey,” Keith answers. “How you feeling?” 

Shiro does this cute little half laugh thing, but Keith doesn’t miss the way he flinches from the pull in his diaphragm. “Like I got thrown from a plane, oh wait.” 

“Making jokes?” Keith smirks. “Lance would be proud.” 

This time Shiro flinches Keith isn’t sure why. Despite Lance being M.I.A since the news of the crash, he and Shiro were on good terms. Close friends even, not as close as he was with Keith, but close enough for Shiro’s wrinkled nose and narrowed eyes of disdain seemed misplaced.   

“Where _is_ Lance?” 

Keith shrugs.

“You should sit down, though, relax.” Shiro breathes out, resting his head back against the pillow as those long lashes of his flutter shut. Who is Keith to refuse a direct request from Shiro? So, he cozies himself back up into his spot, knees pulled to his chest. 

“That’s better. Thank you.” 

“Yeah,” Keith answers, eyes darted down to where his hands held onto his ankles. The tops of his cheeks turning a dusty pink.

 

**Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.**

 

He doesn’t look up but he can feel the silence between them grow heavy, a little uncomfortable. It’s not like them to be like this, but maybe he'd forgot how to talk to Shiro just a bit. What does he say that isn’t going to dredge something to the surface neither are ready for? Leave it to Shiro himself to fill in the cracks. 

“Keith, look at me,” his voice isn’t boisterous in its command, but gentle, coaxing Keith’s chin from where it rests on his knees up with every syllable. 

“I’m serious. Thank you, for being here this whole time. It means a lot to me.” There it is, the soft, kind, Shiro smile that makes his knees weak and turns his brain into a mass of jelly (as Lance so kindly pointed out).

Unexpectedly his hand reaches out, fingers stretching as far as they can to make purchase with the skin on the back of Keith’s hand. Slowly but surely, tentative fingers wind between Shiro’s, loosely.

“Yeah.” Heat rises further up into his cheeks, pink flushing to a cherry red. “No problem.”

Confidence comes when Shiro’s large calloused thumb rubs against the side of Keith’s smaller, warmer hand. He finds himself squeezing down and another small laugh pushes past his former band mate’s cracked lips. Was it even possible for his body to feel this hot from just holding someone’s hand? Boy did he feel lame, but secretly, he’d hope for this long ago.

More than just the hand holding when they took bows on stage or when fingers brushed across each other when they grabbed the same water bottle in practice. Now that Keith recalls, didn’t Shiro sport a hint of red in his cheeks, and didn’t Lance always drag him off somewhere halfway across studio in an explained huff?

Oh. _Oh!_ How is this only occurring to him _now_?! Nice job, Keith.

“Keith, are you-” Shiro starts.

“Shiro, I-” Keith says, at the same time.

They share an awkward laugh.

“You go first.” Always the gentleman even when he's laying half comatose in a hospital bed. But Keith doesn’t know where to begin. Does he tell Shiro he knows? Does he confess? Does he ask Shiro how _he_ feels, first? What if he's wrong and Shiro doesn’t like him like that? What if he's like that with everyone?

Unexpectedly, Keith feels his arm pulled forward, hand still clasped securely in Shiro’s as his friend twists their wrists and touches his lips to the back of his hand.

Did something just explode? He feels as if something exploded. Maybe he _was_ on that plane and he did die because this cannot be happening. The surge that pulls through his body coats it numb; he can’t move. This really cannot be actually happening.

"I’m sorry, did I speak for you, I can take it back?” Shiro teases.

Keith shakes his head back and forth. How is his face still this warm?! “No, that’s um - fine. Don’t take it back.”

“If you insist.” Shiro smirked and, again, touches his lips to the back of Keith’s hand. Then unfurls their fingers to bring the hand palm up to his mouth, pressing small kisses into it.

“Shiro,” Keith whines. Immediately covering his mouth with his left hand, this just gets worse and worse.

“Yes? Do you want more?” Stupid cheeky Shiro and his brilliant grin. “Personally, I think you’d blow a gasket if I kissed you anywhere else.” At least Shiro knows. Giving Keith a much needed reprieve, Shiro settles their hands back down onto the mattress both still intertwined. Neither with the intention of pulling away.

 This felt good. Really good.

 “So, you and Lance…” Keith’s heart drops into the pit of his stomach, here it comes. “Is it bad that I’m glad it’s over?” Shiro says.

 “No, but yes?”

 Shiro offers a soft smile around a deep yawn, one that makes him flinch with pain.

 “You should go back to sleep. It’s been an eventful day.”

 “Will you be here?” His eyes start to fall, fluttering against his cheeks as they fight to stay open.

 “Of course.” A smile and a please hum are all that remain as Shiro is dragged back into a slumber.

 

**Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.**

  
Keith doesn’t dare let go of his hand.


End file.
